


Unanswered and Unsaid

by 60sec400



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Duty before love, F/M, Love, Mutual Pining, Regrets, Romance, Secrets, Tragedy, apparently, assigned kenobi at birth, but GEORGE SAID NO, no editing we die like clones, obi wan kenobi loves satine, satine kryze loves obi wan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:01:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24881980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/60sec400/pseuds/60sec400
Summary: Obi-Wan receives a comm from someone he hasn't heard from in 12 years. They talk. There are regrets on both sides. And some lies, too.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze
Comments: 4
Kudos: 56





	Unanswered and Unsaid

**Author's Note:**

> Not for Obitine 2020 week technically, but I'm getting there! This was done for a prompt on tumblr given to me by duchess-of-mandalore. 
> 
> Here's the prompt:   
> Obitine prompt for you! Sometime during their 16+ years apart, either Obi-Wan or Satine (you choose) contacts the other out of the blue.
> 
> ][][][
> 
> This takes place 12 years after Mandalore! Obi-Wan and Satine are 32-ish and Anakin is about 16. Hope you like it! I'm hopefully going to get to Obitine Week soon! Been working a lot so it's been rough.

There’s a blinking light on his comm that Obi-Wan has been meaning to get to for several hours. He knows it’s not anyone from the council; he’d just been there in a meeting, giving a mission report for the latest mission he and Anakin had been on. It’d gone well enough, even Anakin had been remarkedly pleased with the outcome. He’d enough told Obi-Wan he’d _learned_ something. Remarkable.

He’d been intending to check the message immediately after his meeting with the council, but then he’d been swept aside by Shaak Ti and Plo in an intense discussion over a Padawan’s essay on ethics and morality. It’d been enjoyable, talking with the two masters, and Obi-Wan had left the conversation thinking very intensely of the discussion. Perhaps he should meditate on it and find another lesson for Anakin to learn something from. He could impart some knowledge to his Padawan, sometimes it was easier to learn from your peers then your superiors.

Easier to swallow.

By the time he’d come to that conclusion, Obi-Wan stood in one of the many training dojos’ looking for his Padawan. His thoughts lingered on the discussion, comm forgotten within his robs.

He’s practicing with another Padawan, from a master that Obi-Wan is unfamiliar with, and with a burst of pride he observes that Anakin is winning. Barely sixteen, his Padawan is assuredly strong in his preferred form and he overcomes the older boy quickly. Their long lessons and strong missions have given Anakin, on his own a strong inferno in the Force, an advantage over others. Obi-Wan is sure to inspire confidence in his Padawan’s abilities when he can, when he feels Anakin needs it, and when his Padawan looks over covered in sweat with a grin, he is inclined to return it, however small.

Rushing through the bow that barely counts as one and leaping off the mats, Anakin bounds over to where Obi-Wan is standing.

“Master,” he says breathlessly, “Are we still–?”

“I’m inclined to gift dinners at Dex’s for Padawan’s who can properly end their battles,” Obi-Wan says with a nod and tug Anakin’s braid. 

Anakin winces and glances back at the mat, but the Padawan he’d defeated was already off and recovering, chatting with his friends. He’s in good spirits; unperturbed, but really, it’s the principle of it all.

“Oh, right, sorry,” Anakin mutters, running his hands through his hair. The Padawan cut sticks up comically, and Obi-Wan feels a small grin overcome him. It wasn’t the worst haircut, wasn’t even mandatory, but it was in-part part of their lineage. He didn’t know if Anakin was proud of the cut, but he did wear it and has, in fact, insisted on it.

“All is forgiven but do keep in mind being courteous. Besides, it’s never well to leave a battle unfinished.”

“I did finish it,” Anakin insists, wrapping a towel over his shoulders, “You watched me.”

“Honoring our opponents is not to be forgotten,” Obi-Wan says, leaning forward on his toes a little, eyes twinkling, “I’m not saying you need to bow after every battle you fight, but it can lead to callously thinking our opponents are lesser. And if they are so less, then why is it good to have defeated them?”

“Do you turn everything into a lesson?”

“Only when it is required of me.”

Anakin makes a face, scrunching up his nose as he stares at his Master. At sixteen, Anakin is at almost at eye-level. There’s no doubt he’ll be taller; it’s only a question of when now. Obi-Wan himself is quite tall so the feat is impressive. He was no Qui-Gon though, who had towered over everyone except that one senator from Alderaan.

“I’ll let you mull that over while you go to the fresher. We’ll leave when you’re done,” Obi-Wan says as they leave the dojo. Anakin looked exhausted but the master knew how much he enjoyed going out and stuffing his face with good food. Indiscriminate of flavor, Anakin eats anything put in front of him.

The boy is quick in the fresher and Obi-Wan has barely settled himself down into their quarters to pull out the comm he really needs to answer when Anakin bounds out of the room, robes on, and ready to go. He’d been cleaning. Not that their small quarters were a mess by any means– he’s sure of that. Well, it isn’t from the council and he has promised Anakin an enjoyable dinner. It could wait for now. He doesn’t want to get distracted. And the last thing he needs is to feel the obligatory pull to offer whatever help would be needed by the comm. If he ignores it for a bit longer, well, he could just say he was busy.

And he was!

The trip to the diner went quickly with Anakin’s chatter and it did not stop through the whole thing. Obi-Wan himself had been shy and reserved, often preferring to listen, or really, being too afraid to speak up unless it was asked of him. He’d grown out of it, partially from Qui-Gon’s tutelage and partially from simply growing _older_. And half the time, it was funny to watch his dry sense of humor make others squirm when it was delivered with such an honest sounding tone of voice.

Anakin talks about his classes, and his intentions with his Djem So, and about an essay he was writing, and about the droid part he was having difficulty with, and everything and anything under the Coruscanti sun. Obi-Wan is a good listener, years of practice from a quiet teenagehood himself, and by the end of it all almost four hours have passed.

Dex stops by quickly, ruffling Anakin’s hair in a fond away, and the “adults” chat while Anakin finishes off the fried punthá sticks on Obi-Wan’s platter.

He needs to answer that comm. Guilt has snuck in in the back of his brain. The whole while back, Obi-Wan is distractedly thinking about it, but then they walk into the temple and the whole day has been quite long and when Obi-Wan leaves the comm on the small bedside table in his quarters and thinks he’ll get to it in the morning, well, then, he’ll just have to deal with the consequences.

He wakes early. He opens his eyes and looks immediately over at the comm. It’s still blinking blue. Sighing, he grabs it and clicks it on.

The name sends him spiraling.

He sits up so quickly he almost gives himself whiplash. He’d buried that. He’d buried that so deep into his mind and memory he could go days without seeing her face in his head. Guilt follows soon after. He’d ignored it. He’d gotten it in the mid-morning and the meeting had lasted several hours and then… he’d been busy.

Isn’t that what he’d told himself he’d say? He’d been busy? And it’s true, sort of, but there’d been time. He’d pulled it out twice with the intention of answering, but the dinner had been such a relaxing idea and evening that Obi-Wan had willfully ignored it. A problem for tomorrow.

And tomorrow had come.

It’d been twelve years since they’d spoken.

Satine.

Her names fills him with a burning _something_ in his chest and suddenly it hurts to even think about her. His heart aches and he squeezes his eyes shut. Is this what it feels like? Even just looking at her name fills him up; he could not imagine seeing her. Touching her hand or shoulder or laying a kiss to her knuckles is a want that pushes itself to his mind, something he had buried. When they’d been on the run, he’d found any and every way he could let his hand linger on her. Touching her hand when handing something and leaving it a moment too long, brushing his shoulder against hers.

Love was by no means banned by the Jedi. They were, in fact, very much encouraged to love. Love others, each other, yourself. Love in the romantic sense wasn’t even banned. Celibacy was not a tenant of the code, not a requirement. But attachment? Obi-Wan knew he would have gotten attached like a planet to a star. He could feel that pull on his heart, his head, his mind. He had, in a way, gotten attached. He’d just been able to give it up.

He could feel that pull; on his lips when he kissed her hand, letting them stay just a little too long, savoring the moments they had. He hadn’t even touched anyone like that again. He never would.

He’d repressed those feelings for her. He’d ignored them. Only in his dreams did those things happen. Only in his dreams did he touch her and love her like that last night together. Like all the times before. He thinks of her hand running through his hair, around his chin, pulling his head down to kiss him quietly in the middle of the night.

Those are feelings he cannot admit to. He won’t. He refuses. He does well; he had done well. The memories do not control him.

But her name is on his comm. The blasted device blinks blue.

It urges him forward, but he hesitates.

Why now?

Why twelve years later?

Does he click the message?

He doesn’t hesitate with the answer to that question. He opens it. Ah Satine, his beautiful Duchess. And he’d ignored her. For hours. A day. A whole day. A problem for tomorrow and tomorrow had come and oh what a problem this was.

Her images pops up. A holo.

His breath leaves his lungs and he stares at her likeness. She is as beautiful as she ever was. Her sharp banter and quick work of him had bubbled laughter up from his chest in their days on the run, when they could risk it, and Obi-Wan wants to reach out and touch the image if not for fear of it disappearing forever. He knows it won’t, but the sentiment remains.

He wishes he could laugh with her again. He wishes they could argue again.

“ _Obi-Wan_ ,” she says, and her voice leaves him pained. He shuts his eyes again. One thing at a time. _“I hope this message finds you well.”_

She hesitates. It’s barely noticeable but even twelve years later and Obi-Wan Kenobi still knows Satine Kryze like a beloved book. 

Pushing himself, he forces his eyes to open again. Her face is serene. Ever the Duchess. Ever the ruler.

They both had their duties. Their commitments.

“ _I should have contacted you sooner_ ,” she admits, eyes flickering downward, “ _but I’ll admit I could not bring myself to do it._ _I have a dilemma and a problem that I have made consequently worse the longer I refuse to admit to it. There are times when I could use your wisdom and your wit. Your advice, however infuriatingly delivered, would be useful to me. I have been… dishonest with something and…,”_ she shakes her head, “ _Admitting to it now would be so much worse. Perhaps, once we speak and I have… gathered my resolve, I will be able to admit to my dilemma. Something I should’ve admitted to it sooner,”_ she laughed humorlessly, “ _But I convinced myself I shouldn’t. With good reason, perhaps.”_

She purses her lips and frowns, brow furrowed in concentration. Obi-Wan has never known Satine to be without courage. “ _I don’t know if you heard, but I have a nephew. He is… incredibly smart. Charming. He’s growing into such a fine young man. He just turned 12. He’s so much like his father.”_ She pauses. “ _My elder brother,”_ and she seems breathless. Obi-Wan had never had the opportunity to meet any of Satine’s family. Mother and father killed in the conflict, a missing younger sister, and a brother out of touch and unable to help, killed not long after. 

_“As I said, I have been dishonest. The lie has left me guilty and… your advice. Your… I would like to hear from you, is all.”_

She looks almost directly at him. Like her, Obi-Wan is breathless. He stares at the miniature Duchess. What does she need? Help with her nephew? Perhaps she’d heard about Obi-Wan taking on a Padawan and thinks he has any decent idea on raising a child. But she’s a Duchess, surely, she had some sort of… help with raising a boy? She would, at the least, be able to acquire some.

 _She’s looking for an excuse,_ his mind whispers. Although it’s not a certainty. And why question such a gift as this?

 _“I hope to hear from you soon,”_ she says, “ _Goodbye, Obi-Wan.”_

Her image flickers off.

He listens to it twice more.

Satine was a beacon of courage; he, now, is very much without it. But Obi-Wan pushes through and sets the comm down to get dressed. Does he need tea? He wants it. But he’s so nervous he doesn’t want to break anything. And the possibility of seeing Anakin and losing all resolve keeps him in his small room.

He stands in the center of it, light streaming from the windows, and calls back before he can stop himself.

The device beeps… and beeps. His anxiety builds and he swallows it into the Force. Is this how she felt? Waiting for him to respond? And then waiting, all day?

The comm flickers to life.

“Satine,” he says at her image.

“Obi-Wan,” she says softly back.

He could collapse. His knees feel weak, but he remembers decorum, even though it’s just them, and he drops into a quick bow.

She sucks in a breath but doesn’t object. She’d had, ages ago, but it had been twelve years. He couldn’t forget himself.

“I received your message,” he says quickly, voice quiet. He feels breathless. He can’t fill up his lungs enough to speak, and every word comes out rushed. “I’ll admit, I was surprised. I can’t recall you ever requesting my advice before.”

A small smile plays at her lips and she nods. “Yes… yes, I’m afraid I’ve… wasted your time, though.”

“Oh?” He swallows the disappointment.

“Yes,” she says, and then does not speak.

Obi-Wan hesitates before he says, “And the boy?”

Her eyes jump to his. “The boy?”

“Your nephew? You said you had been dishonest… does it have to do with your nephew?”

Satine nods slowly and he can tell she is… worried? Unsure?

“Yes, yes it did but… all is resolved now.”

He raises his eyebrows. “It must’ve been important if you would… contact me.”

Satine opens her mouth and then closes it again, and then glances away. It is so out of character that Obi-Wan feels a bit bewildered and out of his depth.

“It had to do with his father… I. I recalled, you see, you saying– well. He had questions about his father and I recalled that the Jedi, that you did not… remember your parents and I thought,” she breathes and looks him steady in the eyes. “I thought you might have some advice. For that.”

It feels like a lie. It is a lie and Obi-Wan knows it but the protest dies on his tongue.

But Obi-Wan pushes that thought from his mind. “And you figured it out? You were able to… curb his questions? Answer them?”

“Yes,” she says quickly.

They are both silent.

“Regardless,” he admits slowly, “It is good to hear from you.”

“Yes,” she agrees, “Yes, it is. I–.” It dies in her throat and Satine glances away. “I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry. You’re a Jedi and I cannot be distracting you or,” she shakes her head, “Indulging in childish regrets.”

“Ah,” he says, “Yes, I agree. No use, yes?” He’s a regret them. If there’s anything he’s going to be in Satine Kryze’s life, it’s not what he would have ever dreamt he could be.

“Yes,” she agrees. “I’m sorry for… contacting you, Knight Kenobi.”

Oh, he loathes that.

She looks pained and he can’t imagine he looks much better. It had killed them both, them parting. But he’d pushed it down, far into his mind and now… well, they both still had their reasons for parting. Even more so, now. Satine was a Duchess in her own right. And Obi-Wan, well, he’d made a promise, and he was a Jedi. And he had Anakin, a boy, for he truly was still a boy, that Obi-Wan just as deeply loved. He could no sooner part himself from Anakin than he could his love for Satine.

She is a Duchess. He is a Jedi. They had forgotten that; her in her haste to contact him and him in his haste to reply. Perhaps his silence had answered her better than his words ever would have been able too.

“Of course, Duchess Kryze. Apology accepted.”

He then says the next words quickly before he can regret not saying them, before he can think too hard about them: “My comm is always open if you wish to speak, of course.”

“I– Yes, thank you, Knight Kenobi. That is much appreciated.”

They both wait.

“Goodbye, then,” she says.

The comm cuts off.

He’s standing in his room, light streaming through the window. He closes his eyes. “Goodbye, Satine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed this! Honestly it's kinda sad!   
> I accept prompts and am always down for a chat on tumblr, my username there is thetrackrunner!


End file.
